


The Devil You Know

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Humor, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:12:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dumbledore decides that Harry and Snape could use a day not burdened by their shared history, it turns out that their animosity is the last thing anyone needs to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The canon is owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros. etc. etc. and so on. I own nothing herein except the bits conspicuously absent from canon.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere except here, and not in translated form either.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written May 2006.  
> I couldn't decide what to do with this story's fluff/angst identity crisis until the snape_potter community's "Fluffy Beginnings" challenge. It suddenly worked.
> 
> Warnings: Be aware that Harry is 17 in this story.

"Albus, I'm not at all sure about this plan of yours," Professor McGonagall said with a pinched expression.

"Now, now. Don't worry, Minerva. How could it possibly fail?" Dumbledore smiled confidently. "Cup of tea?"

Ignoring the offer, McGonagall sighed. "It seems so dishonest. After all, we're made up of all our experiences, our whole past. We wouldn't be the same people without them."

"I don't intend to change who they are, Minerva," Dumbledore said soothingly. He rose and walked around his desk to place a hand on McGonagall's shoulder. "I merely think it would be educational for them to journey through just one day without this particular burden they carry. It can only be helpful to all of us." The doubtful look on his colleague's face made him add, "And of course, it's for their _own_ good."

"Albus, most people don't appreciate things done for their own good. And you know what Severus is like."

"I do indeed." Dumbledore grinned. "Which is why I rather think he will thank me later."

The look on Minerva McGonagall's face expressed her doubts all too clearly.

"Now, this is what we'll need to do. I will of course cast the spells on them both myself, tomorrow morning before breakfast. If you'd be so kind as to inform Harry's closest friends, I shall chat to the rest of the faculty." He rubbed his hands gleefully. "It wouldn't do to have anyone spoil the plan."

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore's going to do _what_?" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione frowned. "Is that safe?"

Their head of house assured them it was perfectly safe. "It's only for a day, and the headmaster wants me to assure you both that no harm whatsoever will befall Mr Potter."

"Unless Snape goes blaming him for his loss of memory." Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "He blames him for everything else, professor."

"For the duration, neither Professor Snape nor Mr Potter will have any idea that parts of their memory have been temporarily, well..." McGonagall winced. "Blocked."

"Which parts?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

With a sigh, the professor explained. "The parts concerning one another, and any shared history at this school. Professor Snape will be unable to make any connection between Mr Potter and his father or, in fact, any former Hogwarts student, and Mr Potter will believe himself to be a new student on his first day. He will have no recollection of Professor Snape's attitude towards him in the past."

"Lucky Harry." Ron chuckled. "Pity that'll only last until double Potions."

Hermione was pondering the matter with more seriousness. "You know, I think this might work," she said thoughtfully. "If Professor Snape has no reason to hate Harry, then he should treat him like any other Gryffindor student."

"Oh good!" Ron exclaimed sarcastically. "So we'll only lose 50 house points instead of the usual 100. That's worth mucking about with Harry's head then."

"Ronald!" Hermione looked annoyingly like Mrs Weasley at that moment.

McGonagall looked down her nose at Ron. "Well, I'm sure the headmaster knows what he is doing, Mr Weasley," she lied, rather inclined to agree with her student. "Remember, you two, to tell everyone likely to be in contact with Mr Potter during tomorrow's classes not to act as if anything is wrong."

"Yes, professor," Hermione immediately agreed.

"Yes, professor." Ron slumped down on the common room sofa.

McGonagall's robes were still swishing out the common room door when Ron heaved a great sigh. "I have a really bad feeling about this, Hermione."

"Don't be silly, Ron." Hermione settled down next to him, immediately reaching for her books. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"Whenever someone says that, usually everything," declared Ron gloomily. Then he got up. "I'll better go tell the others. You know, warn them the apocalypse is coming."

* * *

At half past seven in the morning, on the last staircase down to the Great Hall, Harry suddenly started wobbling, then shook his head and refocussed his eyes as if he'd had a dizzy spell.

"Harry, you okay?" asked Ron, steadying him.

"Yeah, I think so." Harry looked at him curiously. "Thanks, um... Ron, was it?"

Ron frowned. He didn't like this one bit. "Yeah, that's right. Ron Weasley."

Harry smiled at him. "I'm absolutely starving. I don't remember when I last had a bite to eat. Where are we going?"

"Great Hall," Ron said grumpily. When Harry just looked at him blankly, he sighed. "Come on then." He led Harry the rest of the way.

Harry gaped at everything on his way into the Great Hall. "This place is amazing," he gushed.

Ron snickered. "Not like your last school, huh?"

"Not at all."

"What was it like?" Ron couldn't help but ask.

Harry frowned and scratched his head. "I can't remember. Bloody hell."

"Yeah," Ron agreed softly. "Bloody hell." He ushered Harry to their usual seats – not that Harry would know that – and started piling his plate full of absolutely everything he could reach. He had a feeling it would be one of those days. Harry watched him in astonishment. Ron fidgeted under the scrutiny. "So, are you getting sorted?" he asked, knowing he had to be careful to play along with the charade.

"No," Harry said. "I'm sure I'm in your house. Must have already happened, though I can't say I remember."

Ron nodded. Well, that was something. He'd have died if Harry had ended up sorted into Slytherin for the day. Could there be anything worse? A moment later, he found out that yes, there could.

"Ron?" Harry suddenly whispered, his eyes glittering oddly.

"What?" A few crumbs of toast fell from Ron's lips.

Harry was staring at something up at the teacher's table. " _Who_ is that dark-haired teacher at the end of the table?"

A sense of first year déjà vu came over Ron as he recalled Harry asking the same thing of Percy. He'd had a feeling things would fall back into place soon enough, memory or not. "Oh, that's Snape. He teaches potions." He couldn't help but add, "And he's a right git, too."

There was a sigh, and Ron looked around to see if Hermione had appeared, only to realise Harry had been the one sighing. "Potions," Harry said, rolling the word in his mouth like a piece of expensive chocolate.

"Yeah, potions. Dreadful subject." Ron muttered, wondering why Harry kept staring at Snape. Worse, was Harry... drooling?

Harry didn't take his eyes off Snape, but if he had, he might have noticed that Ron turned chalk-white when he said in a swoony voice, "Actually, Ron. I think Potions is my favourite subject."

Ron's toast fell, buttered side down, into his lap.

"Hello Harry," came Hermione's voice from behind Ron.

Ron jumped, and the toast hit the floor with a greasy smack.

Harry gave her a quick glance. "Uh... hello?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Hermione Granger," she explained. She frowned at Ron. "What's the matter? You look like you're about to pass out."

Ron pointed to Harry, who was still fixated on Snape, and muttered, "Hermione, he... Harry..."

Hermione followed Harry's line of vision, and her eyes widened. "Ron?" She coughed delicately. "Ron, why is Professor Snape staring at Harry like he's breakfast?"

Only then did Ron realise that Harry wasn't the only one salivating. And for a horrible moment, he wondered whether that, too, had happened on their first day. He could barely suppress a shriek of disgust. "Let's get out of here," he urged, pushing away his plate, shouldering both his and Harry's bags, and pulling his friend up by one arm.

"Hey! I haven't had breakfast yet!" Harry protested.

Hermione grabbed his other arm, and they dragged the struggling Gryffindor away. "You should have used your time more wisely then, shouldn't you?" she lectured.

"What are you talking about?" Harry fumed. "We only just got here." He tried to look back over his shoulder, at that fascinating teacher, but before he managed to free himself, he was outside the hall with the edgy redhead and that bossy brunette glaring at him for whatever it was he had done. "What?" he growled.

They chose to ignore him and looked at each other instead.

"This isn't working!" Ron moaned.

"Oh, blast," Hermione said. "It seemed like such a good idea."

"It bloody well didn't!" Ron frowned. "Well, that's it. We'll just go see Professor Dumbledore and tell him to--"

"Shush, Ron." Hermione's eyes were fixed on the doors to the Great Hall which were flapping in the wake of a tall figure striding out towards them.

"Miss Granger. Mr Weasley." Sarcasm dripped from the smooth, deep voice as Snape swooped down on them. "Would you care to explain why you're manhandling your new housemate..." His words trailed off, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Who are you?" he asked, and his voice was notably less acidic than it had been a moment earlier.

Harry thought he would melt and ooze into the cracks of the stone floor from the first sound of that... that... voice! "Ha... Harry Potter." He followed this with a breathy, "Sir."

Ron let go off Harry's arm and the bags so he could raise both hands and slap them over his face.

Hermione looked on in horror. Well, that name was bound to ring warning bells. And under the circumstances, that might actually be a good thing.

Snape continued to stare at Harry, who continued to stare back. "Mr Potter," he intoned smoothly.

"Sir." Harry shook off Hermione's limp grip and straightened up, trembling all over.

"Are you... all right?" Snape asked as if surprised by his own words.

"Perfect, sir." Harry sighed, not breaking eye contact.

Ron was watching them through the spaces between his fingers, whimpering, while Hermione looked terrified.

"Well." Snape shook himself as if in a daze. "Best get down to the dungeons, all of you. Double Potions first thing."

"Oh! Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Harry smiled up at him.

To Ron's and Hermione's horror, Snape actually smiled back for a second. It was astonishing how different he looked that way. Then, in a pleasantly familiar swirl of robes, he turned and stalked away.

"Oh God," Harry breathed, his knees buckling.

"Oh God!" Ron moaned, his face back in his hands.

Hermione was too shocked to speak at all.

Harry was off down the hallway already. "Where are the dungeons?" he called back excitedly.

Ron pointed downwards gloomily as if he was indicating the way to hell, but Harry had already spotted the stairs going down.

"I don't think I've ever been this worried about Potions." Ron sounded weary. "And that's saying a lot."

Hermione could only nod.

* * *

There had to be rules about this sort of thing, surely. Hermione decided to look it up as soon as this interminable double Potions class was over. Harry might be 17 and thereby considered a full adult wizard, but that couldn't possibly mean it was all right for a professor to stare at him throughout class as if he was seconds away from throwing him over his shoulder and making off with him to his private rooms.

And Harry wasn't helping matters. At all. "He has the most beautiful eyes," he was gushing, his chin supported on his hand in the kind of slouch that, on any normal day, would have lost Gryffindor 10 points already.

It was anything but a normal day.

Ron groaned as if in physical pain. "Evil git, Harry. I keep telling you. Evil git with evil git eyes?"

Harry gave him a hard look. "Stern. Mysterious. Impenetrable," he informed Ron, then went back to gazing at Snape. "And such a majestic nose."

Ron gaped at his best friend as if he was a stranger. "Bloody great beak, if you ask me."

"Wasn't asking," Harry mumbled, then sighed when a tiny quirk of Snape's lips following the inspection of a particularly perfect newt's eye made his heart bounce happily.

Hermione was looking back and forth between Harry, Snape and Ron with a frown between her brows. By rights, they should be losing points by the dozens for all the talking. Not that she wanted them to be losing points, but at least it would be more... normal.

Snape was speaking again. "The potion you're going to brew today is an effective headache remedy. It is also highly volatile and complex. The slightest slip in your concentration, and the remedy will become a deadly poison."

"We're doomed," Ron declared.

Hermione had to agree. Harry was so far beyond concentration, she wouldn't trust him to brew a tin of pea soup at that point. Torn between hoping he would be paired off with someone else when the inevitable happened, and wanting to make sure the potion would turn out all right, she hovered.

"Miss Granger, you will be working with Mr Longbottom, for the sake of our collective survival."

She heard Harry giggling and muttering something about delicious dry wit.

"Mr Weasley, you will be..." Snape looked between Ron and Harry and frowned. "Working with Mr Malfoy for added safety." His eyes met Harry's, and he very nearly smiled. "And as we have an uneven number of students here today, I will personally keep an eye on Mr Potter."

"I bet you will," Ron grumbled as he shuffled away.

"What was that, Mr Weasley?" Snape asked, almost pleasantly.

Ron thought it bloody scary. "Nothing, sir."

"Good. Get to work. The ingredients are up on the blackboard."

Ron arrived at Malfoy's desk, oddly pleased by the disgusted confusion on the pointy face, while Hermione went to the back of the classroom to prevent Neville from even getting started on his own.

"Well, Mr Potter. As you're new, let's see where we stand, shall we?" Snape smirked down at Harry.

"I hope I won't disappoint you, sir." Harry fluttered his eyelashes shamelessly.

"I'm sure you won't, Mr Potter."

A few tables away, in Slytherin territory, someone groaned.

* * *

Harry's potion managed to precariously stay on the side of headache remedy, rather than to tip over into deadly poison, simply because whenever he picked up a wrong ingredient, Snape - who stood in front of his desk and watched his every move - would shake his head, and whenever Harry started to chop something too finely, or too coarsely, Snape would step behind him and cover his hand on the knife to show him how it was done. Harry made a lot of false starts.

"That's not bad." Snape praised the resulting potion, though it was closer to mint green than the soft turquoise it was meant to be. He added, a tad reluctantly, "Though perhaps the potion is not quite strong enough."

Harry gave him a desolate look. "Oh. I'm very sorry, sir."

Snape, who had remained pressed close to Harry's side since the last chopping mishap, tilted his head and gave his student a speculative look. "It's your first day, Mr Potter. It's not surprising. Everything's rather new and exciting, I imagine." He placed a consoling hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes, sir. It definitely is." Harry agreed with a shiver and a smile.

Snape's eyes were fixed on the smiling lips. "I'm quite willing to let you stay after class and redo the potion. If we put our heads together, I'm sure we'll be able to improve on it."

Harry nodded eagerly. "That's very kind of you, sir. Thank you."

"Good." Snape reluctantly moved around Harry to check the other potions, but not without brushing his hand down the boy's back and across the top of his buttocks as he passed.

Harry gave a little squeak.

* * *

At the end of class, Ron and Hermione hovered by the door, waiting for Harry, who seemed content to remain at his desk with a slight smile on his face.

"What's he doing?" Ron hissed.

"Maybe he's got detention?" Hermione suggested worriedly, while thinking that a small sign of normality wouldn't go amiss. Gryffindor hadn't lost a single point, and it was terrifying.

Ron looked at her as if puzzled at her being considered the smart one. "Hermione, Snape's more likely to give Harry a box of chocolates today than detention." Then his eyes widened in horror. "Unless..."

"Oh no," she agreed.

They hurried down to the front of the class.

"Come on, Harry, time to go," Ron said, shaking Harry by the shoulder.

"Yes, we'll be late for..." Hermione tried to think of a subject quickly, as they did indeed have a free period. "Um..."

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, what are you still doing here?" Snape boomed from the door to his office into which he'd temporarily disappeared.

"Waiting for Harry, sir," Hermione said.

Harry grinned up at them. "Oh, that's okay. No need. Professor Snape has kindly agreed to let me redo my potion."

"Has he now?" Ron grumbled.

Snape looked him up and down coolly. "Would you care to explain why there's a stain on the front of your robes, Mr Weasley?"

"What?" Ron frowned and looked down at himself in the vicinity of his lap. "Oh, uh... breakfast. Dropped my toast."

"Likely story," Snape purred, apparently barely suppressing a chuckle. "Perhaps I should talk to your Potions partner."

Ron glared at him, then got distracted by Harry snickering softly. "That's not remotely funny, you know," he fumed at his best friend. "Well, you _would_ know if you could remember a bloody--"

Hermione poked him, and Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "Mr Weasley, it would behoof _you_ to remember that I'm quite capable to deducting points outside lessons. Now be off, both of you, so Mr Potter can get on with his potion."

Ron looked him square in the face. "You quite sure you're not the one hoping to get--"

"Ron!" Hermione interrupted. "Let's just go."

"What? Are you mad, Hermione? We can't--"

"Yes, we can. Sorry, professor." She pushed and shoved Ron towards the door while hissing at him to shut up. Once she had him out the door, she said, "Right. Professor Dumbledore's office. Now."

Ron stared, then nodded, and they took to their heels.

* * *

"Well, finally." Snape spelled the door locked and spun around to rest his hip on the edge of Harry's desk. "Shall we try again, Mr Potter?"

Harry smiled up at him. "Yes, professor." He immediately began to chop the ingredients, keeping a close eye on Snape's facial expression for any hints of where he might be going wrong. But either he was doing a magnificent job, or...

Snape wasn't paying the slightest attention to the powdered feverfew, or the newt's eyes rolling about in their little dish, or the raven's skull bouncing merrily across the desk during Harry's enthusiastic chopping of the various herbs. It would be ridiculous to look at any of those ghastly things when there was a beautiful, tempting young man sitting right there, looking up at him from under long lashes and biting edgily on lush red lips. There was a nagging sense of wrongness about this obsession he was quickly developing with the boy, but simply looking at him, he couldn't imagine having anything but the strongest of reactions to him. He was drawn to him with a pull far too powerful to resist.

"Professor?" Harry asked softly. "Am I doing it right?"

"Oh yes," Snape said huskily, without even looking at the potion now bubbling away in the cauldron. "You're quite perfect."

Harry gave a little gasp. "Sir."

Snape extinguished the fire under the cauldron with a flick of his wand, then reached out to take Harry's right hand and pull him to his feet. "What were you going to say, Mr Potter?"

Harry gulped, stumbling forward into the man's body. "I... don't remember." He yelped at the sensation of smooth black hair brushing the side of his neck before teeth closed on his skin there and nipped him. "Don't remember a thing." He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed.

A tongue flicked out against his neck once, twice, rapidly, before tracing a line up to Harry's ear. There, it was retracted, and Snape's deep, rumbling voice whispered, "Good. I want you to forget everything but me, Mr Potter."

"Harry." A mere gasp.

"Harry." Severus took the soft earlobe between his lips and suckled, then bit down on it lightly. The boy's full-body shiver resulting from this action brought him to full arousal in a second. " _My_ Harry," he growled, and his arms closed around him like a vice. "What are you doing to me, Harry?" he whispered. "I feel like you should have been mine forever."

A soft whimper escaped Harry's lips. "I know. I... know exactly how you feel. Since the moment I saw you, I..."

Severus released him, but only to take his face in his long-fingered hands. His eyes were molten and yearning. "Harry," he rasped, and then he kissed him with years' worth of pent-up need, devouring him like a starving man.

Harry's arms wrapped around his waist, soft moans melting in his mouth on the heat of Severus' tongue as it stroked his own. He felt as if he was disappearing inside the other man, and he never wanted to come out.

The classroom door flew open with the force of a spell. "Finite Incantatem!"

They gasped into each other's mouths. Something was wrong. Something was _intruding_. Snape's hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, and he pushed him away. Hard.

Stumbling backwards, Harry hit the desk behind him and winced, and for a moment, Snape was reaching out to steady him, pain flashing through once again cold black eyes.

Eyes which shot towards the door, finding Weasley and Granger standing there - one looking aghast, the other scared. And next to them - Dumbledore, a sad expression on his face.

"You've gone too far, you meddling old fool!" Snape spat, turning around and striding from the room without a backwards glance. The door to his private rooms slammed shut behind him.

"Oh dear." Dumbledore sighed. "Oh dear. I should have known."

Harry glared at him. "Should have known what? What did you _do_?" Things ticked over in his mind, and after a minute, his confusion cleared. "I don't believe this. How could you?"

The look Dumbledore gave him was piteous.

Harry wasn't in a pitying mood. He ran from the classroom, ignoring Ron and Hermione altogether. He kept running until he was outside, where he took a few deep, fortifying breaths. Once he was a little calmer, he decided to find a quiet place where he could think.

* * *

Severus had been ignoring each of the headmaster's attempts to contact him throughout the rest of the day. He had blocked his floo, pretended not to hear the scratching of owl talons against his door, and chased the single house elf brave enough to undertake the doomed mission on its way with a single death glare. When a hesitant knock on his door near midnight still found him wide awake and furious, he decided he'd had enough.

He strode to the door and tore it open, acid words burning his tongue and ready to spill venom on the headmaster, when they melted into nothingness at the sight before him.

In the open doorway stood Harry Potter, looking up at him with his unique blend of trepidation and determination, and a nose red and shiny from the cold. "We should probably talk," the boy said, trying not to let his voice shake overly much and failing.

Snape sighed. "If you're an emissary of the headmaster's--"

"Not bloody likely!" Potter exclaimed in disgust. Fury momentarily flashed in the green eyes, then softened into resignation. Before the boy managed to school his expression, that resignation had melted into regret. Snape looked at him, surprised, then took a step back and allowed Harry inside. "I'm sorry," Potter said, boldly meeting Snape's eyes.

'Blasted Gryffindor courage,' Severus thought, trying to scowl and failing. "You were no more at fault in all this than I, Mr Potter." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "We've both been victims of the headmaster's worst idea of a joke yet."

"Some joke. Achoo!" Harry punctuated the statement with a sneeze, then strode through the room as if he had a set destination. He didn't stop until he reached the fireplace, where he turned around to face his teacher. "What in Merlin's name was he thinking?" he demanded. "I've spent all afternoon and evening freezing my arse off by the lake, trying to figure him out." He was holding his hands surreptitiously behind his back to soak up the warmth from the fire.

Snape looked at him with an inscrutable expression. "It would seem that our esteemed headmaster will stop at nothing to foster some kind of working... relationship between us to help the Order."

"By blocking our memories and forcing us to pretend we don't hate each other?" Snape flinched at the words, and Harry's eyes widened in both surprise and dawning realisation. "You _do_ hate me?" he asked, cautiously.

"With every fibre of my being," Snape said, avoiding Harry's eyes. The words tasted stale in his mouth, and he could tell that the tone in which he'd said them would fool no one. Even so, he couldn't help but add, "As you hate me."

Harry made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. "Professor," he started.

"Potter, you should go back to your dormitory." Snape crossed the room on a path parallel to the one Harry had taken, and sat down tiredly on the dark leather sofa. "It would be best if we both simply forgot what transpired today."

"I can't," Harry said firmly. "I won't." He noted Snape's weary posture. "And nor will you." Snape opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He must be more tired than he thought. Harry started to move, but instead of walking towards the door, he walked around the coffee table, in front of the roaring fire, until he stood before Snape. "Will you, sir?" he asked softly.

Snape refused to meet the stubborn boy's eyes, looking everywhere but at that _individual_ before him - and he was that, for there was so little he had in common with his pest of a father as to not be worth noting. He jolted when Harry knelt down before him.

"Will you?" Harry asked again, looking up at him, making it impossible to look away. Hesitantly, he put his hand on top of his teacher's where it was gripping a bony knee.

Severus swallowed hard. "No."

Harry's lips parted on a sharp out-breath. "You were so different today." Snape frowned at him, and Harry blushed. "I don't just mean... not just to me, but... May I ask you something personal?"

Snape sighed in resignation. "Yes."

"I know I thought I was new to Hogwarts. I didn't remember anyone or anything. What was it the headmaster took from you? Just... me? Remembering me, I mean?" Black eyes assessed him as if to judge which answer would be best. "Please tell me," Harry asked, and his plea forced the truth.

"I didn't remember ever having met you, or anyone associated with you."

Harry gasped. "Not my father, nor Sirius, nor Remus?"

"No, none of you." And after a pause. "None of _them_."

"So what they did to you..." Snape's eyes turned cold, but Harry wouldn't be deterred. Not anymore. "None of it ever happened?"

"So I temporarily thought."

Harry grit his teeth. Snape would be that different, that much less vicious and vengeful, that much less... unhappy. To Snape's astonishment, the next words he forced out were, "I could strangle the bloody lot of them!"

"What?" Severus asked cautiously. "Who?"

"My dad. Sirius. Remus. Dumbledore for taking all that off your shoulders and then dumping it back on you." Harry's eyes softened when he looked into Snape's face. "I'm so sorry."

Until that day, Snape would have tossed Harry out on his ear for even presuming his apology would in any way make up for anything his bullying father had done in the past. But even a fool could see that if nothing else, the headmaster's experiment had made it abundantly clear that as far as Snape was concerned, there was nothing whatsoever to despise about Harry personally. Quite the opposite. And Snape was no fool. "Mr Potter," he began, for once lost for words.

"Harry." Green eyes looked up at him pleadingly.

Really, the boy shouldn't be allowed to look so adorable with his chilled nose and flushed cheeks. Snape supposed it was as good a word as any to start with. "Harry."

Harry's hand gently rubbed back and forth across the back of Snape's where it rested on the man's knee, his fingertips caressing the knuckles. "I like the way my name sounds on your lips." His eyes rested on those same lips as he spoke.

Severus turned his hand over beneath Harry's and pulled him closer. "Then you should find out how it tastes there," he offered huskily.

And Harry was leaning into him, angling his head and pressing their mouths together. The hand not holding Snape's rose and cupped his nape, and with soft sighs, their lips parted as if by mutual agreement, and they deepened the kiss. Snape's free arm wound around Harry's waist, drawing him closer and up, and then everything tilted and Harry found himself sliding up and over one hard, slender thigh and was tipped backwards. When the back of his head softly came to rest against the arm of the sofa, he opened his eyes and gasped.

Snape was looking down at him with eyes that were blacker than ever, flickers of flame from the fire warming them. He was leaning over Harry, the boy's legs across his own. "You should know that if you don't leave now, Harry, I might do something you'll regret." His voice was deep and heavy with implication.

Harry was breathing hard. "I won't regret it," he said without hesitation. He reached up to stroke back Snape's hair, but his wrist was captured and a kiss pressed into his palm. "I can't believe I thought all these things you've been making me feel these last couple of years have been hatred," he gasped.

"You're sure they're not?" Snape asked, trying to force a casual note into his voice.

"Yes." Harry swallowed. "I think hot and bothered would go a long way towards describing it."

Snape's tongue tip flicked against his palm, causing a sharp inhale of breath. "What do you want, Harry? Tell me."

"I want you..." Harry started, then licked his lips. "I want you to kiss me, and to hold me, and to... to..." He blushed. "To fuck..." Snape's soft groan nearly jumbled his thoughts entirely. "Not just that. To make love to me, and to..." Harry sighed when Snape's fingers slipped through his hair and brushed it back from his glowing cheek. "To keep me here with you, after the end of the year, and to... not hate me. Never again."

"I promise never to hate you again," Snape breathed, leaning in and pressing his lips to Harry's; they parted for him, soft and pliant and wet. It was a long time before he managed to add, "And once I've complied with your first four requests - and I will, Harry - if you still want to stay with me then..."

"Yes," Harry declared. "Everything in my life connects to you in some way. I wouldn't know what to _be_ without you." He smiled bashfully. "And you can keep my feet on the ground and my ego in check."

Severus looked at him seriously. "I do owe you that."

"Yes," Harry agreed, willing to use any argument necessary to allow him to stay. "And I owe you some new, better memories." He stroked his palm over the centre of Severus' chest, both soothing and being soothed by the even pounding there.

"Better than what?" Severus whispered, leaning down with a slight smile to kiss Harry again. "I seem to have forgotten the others."

"Good." Harry recalled Severus' words from earlier that day. "I want you to forget everything but me."

One single word was breathed against his lips before they were devoured. "Done."

 

THE END


End file.
